A Mother's Tale
by Three People
Summary: A young mother tells a tale. A tale in which time - twenty years worth of it - has passed since the closure of another one. A tale in which we become reaquainted with Ozorne, and meet a very special child.
1. Prologue: In which we meet a mother and ...

A Mother's Tale.

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Prologue** - **In which we meet a mother and her children.

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Authors: Kitty Ryan, Alison Young_, and _Sarah Parker.

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Genre: _Drama/Action-Adventure/ Romance._

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Rating: _This story is to be rated R, for adult themes and general darkness, as well as quite a considerable amount of intrigue which makes the plot rather…well…complicated. Not for the faint of heart or those who lack maturity of mind._

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Disclaimer: _Some of the characters mentioned herein, and the places that they are from, are property of Tamora Pierce and Terry Goodkind. They are used by the authors only for entertainment purposes. However, other characters and places belong to the authors, and cannot be used without express permission from any one of the three of them._

We also find it necessary to point out several authors that have influenced the timbre of this work in some way. At the moment these include Terry Prattchet and 

Ursula. K. LeGuin. Other authors which we feel compelled to mention and thank wholeheartedly, are all the wonderful members of the Yahoo! club known as 'Wild Magic Returns Again'. (_http://www.clubs.yahoo.com/clubs/wildmagicreturnsagain__) We couldn't do it without you, guys!_

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Summary: _A young mother tells a tale. A tale in which time - twenty years worth of it - has passed since the closure of another one. A tale of a prince and a healer; a mage and a disgruntled daughter. Of one familiar figure who is finally feeling her years catch up to her, and another - just as familiar - who is seeking revenge for the third (and by no means the last) time. A tale of betrayal and illness, of guilt and loyalty, and how things can change in the blink of an eye. Of healing and redemption. A tale of different obsessions and personal gain. Of ambition; and where it takes and how it treats those who have it. A tale punctuated with a child's questioning, and the realisation that even those branded with the stereotypical brand known as being 'evil', also possess human feeling._

* * *

It was the night of midwinter, many fires flickered merrily in many grates, and many a pretty token or prettier words changed hands and mouths. Frost patterns had made their fragile impression on windows everywhere; and the high, tremulous voices' of hundreds of carol singers echoed sweetly in the air wherever there were children to sing the songs. 

In one particular village, next to the last reaches of the river Olorun: where the green and brown patchwork of farmland gave way to the sand and dunes of the Great Southern Desert with just a wide road in-between; a woman drew the curtains, hiding the frost patterns from sight.

She did not look like anything unnerving; a tall, comfortable looking woman in her early thirties with large, clear green eyes and heavy, strawberry blonde hair done in a lose braid down her back. An attractive countenance certainly, but there was nothing unduly mysterious in her face and manner. She was simply a young mother of three, recently widowed and well provided for. The rumours that flew around, saying that she was once a diplomat; who danced with the enemy and charmed them with praise and well chosen words whilst giving nothing away, and that she powerful mage, and Voice to the nomadic Bazhir - even royalty - did not fit this woman. But everyone knows that country hamlets give wild and impossible histories to their inhabitance. Good for a yarn but almost always all fuss and no substance. They have nothing else to do. As it was, this woman was just the young healers widow, who had been brought to the village nine years before and had never done anything out of the ordinary. She did not even have a royal maiden name. Only 'Lenin'. A name as common as mud on the other side of the border. 

"Mama?" A little girl of about eight, with light brown hair all over curls and eyes the same as her mothers, walked timidly into the room.

"What is it, Elsie love? It's past ten, a little late for you to be up."

"But, Mama!" The child was all innocence, "Mirajj an' Aoife are 'wake, too. An'," Elsie pouted, "I'm _older_ than them two."

" Older than _those_ two," the mother corrected automatically. Sure enough two more children trooped in, the boy, showing all the world how responsible (her son's new word) he was by supporting his struggling four-year-old sister so that she wouldn't trip over. 

"Mean ol' Elsie woke us up!" Mirajj said, shaking with indignation and the weight of his rather plump sibling combined. 

"Elsie, you didn't?"

"She d-d-did!" This came from little Aoife. Her face and nightgown were soaking.

"Is dropping the water jug on Aoife responsible, Mama? She's only a baby," Mirajj asked curiously.

"No it is _not_. Elsie Locusta Miller!" The woman stood up, and proceeded to dry her youngest child off and glare at her eldest at the same time. "What in all the God's name's possessed you to do that?" Elsie, looking defiant, glared right back at her mother.

"You say tha' if Mirajj an' Aoife are 'wake then I can' be 'wake, too. An' I couldn't sleep, but Mirajj an' Aoife were asleep, and I did NOT drop the water jug on Aoife, it fell. So there!"

The young mother tutted and sat down, hauling Mirajj and Aoife up onto the chair. "Be quiet, child. You and I are going to have a long talk about this in the morning. But for now, do you want to hear a story, all of you? Mirajj and Aoife can sleep in tomorrow, but you, Elsie love, have to leave for school in the morning. We'll have a vote on it. Majority rules." She smiled, "So, what do you say?"

"I don' know what a 'Majority Rules' is, but wanna story," Mirajj said seriously, looking slightly nervous. Elsie, showing all the superiority of being two years older then her dark-eyed sibling, smiled indulgently.

"You _would_, but I think stories are for babies. I don' want one."

"They are _not_," Mirajj retorted.

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

"That's enough!" The mother, interrupting something that would turn explosive if she didn't watch out, put a pacifying hand on Mirajj's shoulder. "It appears that we have a tied situation. Aoife, dearie - what do you have to say?"

"S-s-story!"

"Well, that's settled then." The mother settled more comfortably in her chair, pushing a wayward strand of hair out of her face.

"But Mama!" cried a petulant Elsie, eyes wide and angry.

"No buts, Elsie Miller. Besides, you should enjoy this story. The seed of the matter was planted _fifty_ years ago. When Uusoae, the Queen of Chaos, was condemned by Mother Flame herself to spend the time it takes for a star to die locked away from the innocent world…"


	2. Chapter One: In which even Lawyers have ...

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Chapter one - **In which even lawyers have a god.**

Authors: Kitty Ryan, Alison Young_,_ _and_ Sarah Parker.

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Genre: _Drama/Action-Adventure/ Romance._

****

Rating_: This story is to be rated R, for adult themes and general darkness, as well as quite a considerable amount of intrigue which makes the plot rather…well…complicated. Not for the faint of heart or those who lack maturity of mind._

****

Disclaimer: _Some of the characters mentioned herein, and the places that they are from, are property of Tamora Pierce and Terry Goodkind. They are used by the authors only for entertainment purposes. However, other characters and places belong to the authors, and cannot be used without express permission from any one of the three of them._

We also find it necessary to point out several authors that have influenced the timbre of this work in some way. At the moment these include Terry Prattchet ("The layers of Fate demand a loophole in every prophecy",) and Ursula. K. LeGuin. Other authors which we feel compelled to mention and thank wholeheartedly, are all the wonderful members of the Yahoo! club known as 'Wild Magic Returns Again' (_http://www.clubs.yahoo.com/clubs/wildmagicreturnsagain__) we couldn't do it without you, guys!_

****

Summary: _A young mother tells a tale. A tale in which time - twenty years worth of it - has passed since the closure of another one. A tale of a prince and a healer; a mage and a disgruntled daughter. Of one familiar figure who is finally feeling her years catch up to her, and another - just as familiar - who is seeking revenge for the third (and by no means the last) time. A tale of betrayal and illness, of guilt and loyalty, and how things can change in the blink of an eye. Of healing and redemption. A tale of different obsessions and personal gain. Of ambition; and where it takes and how it treats those who have it. A tale punctuated with a child's questioning, and the realisation that even those branded with the stereotypical brand known as being 'evil', also possess human feeling._

In this chapter: The (as yet unnamed) mother continues her tale. We find out what happened after that fateful chapter in 'Realms of the Gods' when Mother Flame condemned Uursoe to that lovely cage of dead starfire, and why even the creators of the universe are unable to create the inevitable…

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* * *

"It is done." Three words, spoken by a thing that was both terrible and beautiful, somehow the essence of heat and light. Three words that weren't spoken to anyone in particular, simply everyone. Nothing with eyes could see who spoke the words, as there was nothing to see. The voice may have been the essence of heat and light, but the essence of something is very rarely seen. It doesn't _need_ to be seen, only felt. And these words felt as if that no one in their right mind would dare defy them. Well…apart from the god of Lawyers. (Page 1 328 777, paragraph 3, section 20 - The Divine Constitution.)

"Ahem…" Sure enough, a new, expensively dressed, player entered the stage. He was carrying some absolutely hideous looking papers. They simply reeked of profit, and not towards whoever he intended to show them to. "Well, this 'final word' business is all very well, but…" The god shuffled his papers, "It is, I'm afraid, legally unsound. The entire concept of, well I should say _lack _of, inevitability…our non interference policy, The Divine Confederation of World Wellbeing consensus last century…"

A sigh echoed from Mother Flame. Having eternal patience was all very well, but even eternity had it's limits. Not for the first time the mother of the god's regretted that the word 'concise' wasn't part of this particular divinity's understanding.

"…The Natural Order of Things writ… this whole affair contradicts…illogical…"

"My son, if you would please get to the point. . ." This statement deserved the double spacing, as we are sure you agree.

"And is…in all degrees of reality and impossible possibility…Oh, right, you want the tale of the matter then?"

"If you would be so kind. Yes."

"It doesn't work."

"Oh?" Mother Flame was sceptical, "My husband and I sketched the moon and stars. We gave you abilities, and life to practice them on. We write the script, paint the scenery, direct and produce the production. We _are_ the prophecies. The idea that I am unable to make a few changes and inevitabilities is, most definitely, suspect. Besides, 'It Is Done.' It cannot be undone. That is the way prophecies work."

"The Lawyers of Fate demand a loophole in every prophecy." The Lawyer replied firmly. "I'm afraid, Mother, that 'finality' is a dirty word in this business. To change that you would have to kill me, and you are," more paper shuffling, "unable to do that. Both physically and metaphorically." 

"Well then," Mother Flame's voice held a touch of very un-godlike irritation, "Uusoae is the essence of Chaos. Let the essence find a shadow. One who is completely of human flesh, but with power like a tracing of her own. With the finding of this shadow, the one who opened the gate of the Realms' will return. There will be only two possible solutions. Depending on where different loyalties lie, and where they are destroyed. Now your prophecy has a loophole, child. _Now_ It Is Done."


	3. Chapter Two: In which time lapses are ra...

Chapter two - **In which time lapses are rather frequent, the first one being about eight or nine years and continuing on from there.**

Authors: Kitty Ryan, Alison Young_,_ _and_ Sarah Parker.

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Genre: _Drama/Action-Adventure/ Romance._

****

Rating_: This story is to be rated R, for adult themes and general darkness, as well as quite a considerable amount of intrigue which makes the plot rather…well…complicated. Not for the faint of heart or those who lack maturity of mind._

****

Disclaimer: _Some of the characters mentioned herein, and the places that they are from, are property of Tamora Pierce and Terry Goodkind. They are used by the authors only for entertainment purposes. However, other characters and places belong to the authors, and cannot be used without express permission from any one of the three of them._

We also find it necessary to point out several authors that have influenced the timbre of this work in some way. At the moment these include Terry Prattchet ("The layers of Fate demand a loophole in every prophecy",) and Ursula. K. LeGuin. Other authors which we feel compelled to mention and thank wholeheartedly, are all the wonderful members of the Yahoo! club known as 'Wild Magic Returns Again' (_http://www.clubs.yahoo.com/clubs/wildmagicreturnsagain__) we couldn't do it without you, guys!_

****

Summary: _A young mother tells a tale. A tale in which time - twenty years worth of it - has passed since the closure of another one. A tale of a prince and a healer; a mage and a disgruntled daughter. Of one familiar figure who is finally feeling her years catch up to her, and another - just as familiar - who is seeking revenge for the third (and by no means the last) time. A tale of betrayal and illness, of guilt and loyalty, and how things can change in the blink of an eye. Of healing and redemption. A tale of different obsessions and personal gain. Of ambition; and where it takes and how it treats those who have it. A tale punctuated with a child's questioning, and the realisation that even those branded with the stereotypical brand known as being 'evil', also possess human feeling._

In this chapter: We meet the shadow of Chaos, and others. Including a dark haired, short little girl who shows the world that even those with the blood of many a famous figure running through her veins, can turn out the way no one was expecting them to.

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It was dark. Nicci might have wondered why it was so dark if she hadn't all ready known. She might have wondered if she had cared. As it was, she didn't. Pain was the only feeling that mattered, the only one she was capable of feeling. And she didn't care about that, either. Rarely was the pain strong enough o reach down into the abyss that she lived in to affect her, anyway. Her physical body was nothing: Uusoae would have her soul when she died, and Chaos would reign.

A soft voice, all at once demeaning and respectful, hate-filled and caressing, painful and gentle filled her head. The pain that accompanied it was dull, not enough to awake her from the mist of apathy that filled her body and soul alike.

"Nicci, it is time," said the voice. It seemed inhuman, yet very much female. Uusoae had a talent for the dramatic.

"Uusoae, you still haven't told me what I'm doing here. Or where here is." It didn't really matter, but the factual knowledge would be nice. A form coalesced before her, mist swirling around a fixed point until it became a person. The darkness lightened, pinpoints of bright light dotting over head, like stars.

A young woman, long auburn hair and blue-grey eyes, short and curvy, stood before her. She appeared to be in her late teens at the oldest, pretty if one did not value classical beauty all that much. Long lashes framed the large, almond eyes—easily the prettiest thing about her—and her smile, if one was privileged to see it, was stunning. This was the only form that she ever presented to Nicci, and Nicci accepted that with the cold calculations that she took in everything else with. Her shape did not shift, did not change. Human form was chaos as it was. Uusoae smiled benignly.

"Just do as I say, Nicci," she commanded. The all-powerful voice of a goddess had become a young girl's voice, just verging upon womanhood. And Nicci obeyed.

The set up a circle, calling the elements to it, and Uusoae began a chant. The Sister of the Dark—the shadow—took up the chant, and the goddess gestured to the sky. Nicci pulled out a dagger and cut her wrists, blood pouring in an unholy sacrifice. Her fingertips lit up, lighting the sky and land around them, revealing that it was all the same dull greyness, with no distinction between land and sky.

"Come, bring him down to me. My faithful servant, my endless help, even in death. I call upon you, my fellow Gods, to release his soul, and give him the body that was own, his own before it's needless corruption. Please! Bring back Orzone, my servant in this life and the next!"

A clap of thunder, a huge bolt of lightning. A body fell from the sky, naked and clear of the scars that had wrecked it in its previous existence. He landed on the ground within the circle, and Uusoae began to fade. 

"It is done. Take care of him, Nicci." Her voice became less child-like. "Do your best, and I shall contact you when I think you need it next." She disappeared, and the mist that had been her cleared. As she stared down at the groaning man lying next to her feet, Nicci felt the first thing that was not pain or apathy in a long time: the first stirring's of love."

* * *

The young mother smiled at her children, they were more engrossed in the tale then she thought they would be, apart from Aoife, already sound asleep in her lap. Mirajj was all awed concentration, his blonde-brown hair flopping into his eyes and without so much as a blink. Elsie had a strange, almost hungry look, on her intense little face. 

"I like Nicci, Mama." 

'Mama' shuddered, and hurriedly continued on with the tale.

* * *

"Alanna of Pirates' Swoop and Olau hovered behind her son Thom and his wife Caitlin as they hugged their eldest child good-bye. The little girl, just barely three, was not crying like her parents, or like her brothers, but the boys were both babies, and thus allowed to cry if they wanted. The little girl, all big grey eyes and blue-black ringlets, stood solemnly, staring over the heads of her parents. Stormy eyes did not blink, did not seem at all sad when she was released by her parents and engulfed in her grandmother's arms. Nor did they change when she was released by the Lioness and handed over to Rowan, a young, sixteen-year-old girl.

Rowan, a preternaturally cheerful person, was immediately struck by the contrast of Aria—for that was the girl's name—around her parents, and then, later, away from them. The sombre child became a cheerful, if tiny, vision, always dancing and laughing.

Rowan was one of the most accomplished Shang alive, had graduated as a young teen, and was in charge of recruiting new members. Aira's fire and true talent for the martial arts had attracted Rowan at first, but to find out that the child was the Lioness' daughter had been the decisive factor. Aira had been shipped off with Rowan to the elite training school high in the mountains in a secret location, and that was that.

Of course, this was two years ago. Besides Aira's younger twin brothers, another boy and a second girl had been added to the family - twins, again - since she had left them, and all that she received now was the occasional monetary support. She was teased for being so small, envied for her talent, and utterly hated by the boys in her class.

And then she was five. Her hair was still long, the black ringlets flowing down her back. Rowan, the Prelate of the Shang by then, had let her go 'play' and be a child for a day. It was her birthday, and so she had gathered up the money she had gotten from her parents as a gift, and began the walk to town.  
She had been skipping down the dirt road when she tripped, and crashed, skinning her knee in the process. And then, out of nowhere, Nicci and Orzone had been there. She blatantly stared at blonde, blue-eyed woman who was asking her if she was all right. She was the complete opposite of everything Aira was: blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, golden skin, and tall. The little girl smiled as she noticed the man. He looked very friendly, amber eyes large with the glimmer of intelligence and power in their depths, and he was smiling at the lady like she was the best thing in the world.  
"Are you all right?" the lady said, in a tone that made Aira think that perhaps she was repeating herself. Aira nodded wordlessly, not noticing her skinned knee. But the lady noticed. "Oh, let me clean that up for you," she said, in a very motherly tone, and she did.  
"I'm Nicci," said the lady. "This is my..." she searched for an appropriate word. She couldn't exactly tell a little girl that he was her lover. "...husband. Or...we're engaged." She looked at Orzone, who smiled his approval.

And, from then on, Aira had been their child. Oh, yes, she still received money from her biological family, but she never heard from them. Orzone and Nicci were there when she needed them, and, in turn, she was there for them. That is all that needs to be known, for Aria's childhood - her early life with Nicci and Ozorne - is another story. To be told another time, and by someone who knows more about it - and cares more about it - then I. 

Rowan died when Aira was sixteen. The talented little girl had blossomed into an extremely talented young woman, and - following unwittingly in Rowans footsteps - she was named Prelate. Strongest of the living Shang; Aira, who had completed her inevitable metamorphosis into what we shall call 'evil', accepted the position, and ruled the Shang with an iron fist.

Until, of course (for it appears that the former Emperor Mage had - during his stint at fatherhood - managed to impress some of his own pet ambitions and longings onto the willing girl), Orzone had called her to Corus, capital of Tortall. She had turned over the rule of the Shang to her younger cousin, Ciar, but none knew it. And Aria did what she wanted to all along: she took her place beside her foster parents, to overthrow, and - eventually - to rule.

* * *

"Mama?" Elsie interrupted the story, a confused look in her green eyes. "Why d'you say tha' Aria's evil? What _is _evil?

"Evil is something that is very, very bad. Something which hurts others and enjoys it. Something I never want you to encounter, Youngling."

"But… what has Aria done tha's evil, Mama? She jus' likes Ozorne an' Nicci better than her Mama an' Papa. Right?"

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	4. In Which we meet Foren Salmalìn

A Mother's Tale

Chapter three - **In which we meet Foren Salmalìn**

Authors: Kitty Ryan, Alison Young, and Sarah Parker

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Genre: Drama/Action-Adventure/ Romance.

****

Rating: This story is to be rated R, for adult themes and general darkness, as well as quite a considerable amount of intrigue which makes the plot rather…well…complicated. Not for the faint of heart or those who lack maturity of mind.

****

Disclaimer: Some of the characters mentioned herein, and the places that they are from, are property of Tamora Pierce and Terry Goodkind. They are used by the authors only for entertainment purposes. However, other characters and places belong to the authors, and cannot be used without express permission from any one of the three of them.

We also find it necessary to point out several authors that have influenced the timbre of this work in some way. At the moment these include Terry Pratchett, and Ursula. K. LeGuin. Other authors whom we feel compelled to mention and thank wholeheartedly, are all the wonderful members of the Yahoo! Group known as 'Wild Magic Returns Again' (http://whttp://groups.yahoo.com/group/wildmagicreturnsagain) we couldn't do it without you, guys! Particularly one lovely individual called Heather, who has let us use Sharra Salmalìn. Thankye very much.

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Summary: A young mother tells a tale. A tale in which time - twenty years worth of it - has passed since the closure of another one. A tale of a prince and a healer; a mage and a disgruntled daughter. Of one familiar figure who is finally feeling her years catch up to her, and another - just as familiar - who is seeking revenge for the third (and by no means the last) time. A tale of betrayal and illness, of guilt and loyalty, and how things can change in the blink of an eye. Of healing and redemption. A tale of different obsessions and personal gain. Of ambition; and where it takes and how it treats those who have it. A tale punctuated with a child's questioning, and the realisation that even those branded with the stereotypical brand known as being 'evil', also possess human feeling.

In this chapter: Aria is sixteen, now fully part of Ozorne's service. We meet Ozorne in person now; he is just as complicated as ever. Also readers, it is time for you to meet the daughter of the couple some of us love and just as many loathe. But it seems that her loyalties are rather…suspect.

* * *

Ozorne looked the child over. With her long, thick black hair and large brown eyes, she looked enough like her father to bring back painful memories. Very painful memories. But there was something in her eyes, a spark of something, which would never appear in Arram's. Numair's. It was the same spark what appeared in another set of eyes, amber instead of brown. His own.

This child, who loathed to bare the name**—**Salmalìn**—**was loyal to him. She saw the world in the clear light in which he saw it. She was nearly as good as Aria in the arts of guile and deception. She had no conscience, but she had intelligence and jealousy, and the will to use it for her own ends. And she was going to help him. Help him finally get his revenge. The revenge he came from beyond the grave for. It was a truly wonderful thing, the fact that she was willing to betray her parents, her former life and upbringing. For him. She was standing just a foot away, at the top of a rise from which you could see Tortall in all its colourful entirety, to discuss the plan. The plan they had all concocted and was nearly ready to be put in action. A plan that was going to - Ozorne felt like grinning at the thought of it - make one hell of a statement.

"Foren. Are you ready?"

The girl nodded, shaking a lock of hair from her face as she turned to view the landscape before them. "It won't be long now, before The Parents leave for an intimate retreat. One that their dear darling daughter has planned just the two of them." She smiled to herself, before turning her attention back to Ozorne. "An escape from the pressures of everyday life."

"An interesting way of putting it, my dear," Ozorne smiled his approval. "You're improving."

"I could only get 'em to consent to three days," Foren mused, idly playing with her hair. But I'm reckoning, Ozorne that I for one would go completely mad if I had to wait any longer. I've worked _so _hard and all." 

Ozorne gave his protégé a soothing look. "Don't worry, pet. You've been a good girl, and all good girls' get their rewards." 

Excitement brewed inside of Foren so that she could barely contain it. The girl could have laughed out loud. Here she was, only sixteen years of age, and handing her despised parents over to their nemesis, whom they thought had died - twice. It was quite simple, really, why she was doing it. Simply because she was considered, along with her twin - Sharra - to be a mistake. An afterthought. An accident. Call it what you will, but the only reason why Foren and Sharra Salmalìn existed at all was because their mother had forgotten it was important to wear a pregnancy charm. Neither children, nor marriage had been part of the two mage's life plans until then (or to put it more aptly - 'them') and Foren somehow knew that they would have been perfectly happy without if she and her sister had not turned up at all. The two of them were both loved, Foren knew, but they had never been wished for. And that made her angry. To add insult to injury, her parents hadn't pulled their great selfish heads in and got married until she and her sister were around three of four years old. So they were illegitimate, as well as accidental. Foren often wondered why the great, painful feeling of shame that was part of herself was absent in her sister. But that was just another thing about the two of them that differed. Just one of many, many things. For one, her dear sister wasn't up here on the rise with her, with the special, secret knowledge that her parent's 'escape from the pressures of everyday life,' would be a permanent one.   
"I'd better head back," the daughter said to Ozorne, dragging herself from her thoughts. "I wouldn't want to miss their departure, would I?" 

Ozorne laughed.

* * *

The mother gazed at her children. Aoife had fallen asleep near the end of the second chapter, her dear little golden head pillowed comfortably against her breast, thumb in mouth. Mirajj had also joined his younger sister in the world of slumber - and Elsie, for it seemed that this chapter had not sparked her interest, was on the verge of doing so as well. She smiled. "C'mon, dotie," she said quietly, unconsciously using a Scanran term of endearment that her own mother had used long ago, when her hair had been as curly as Elsie's, and her head full of wild romantic dreams, "time you went to bed." 

* * *

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Authors Notes: First, all three of us thank all that have reviewed this story wholeheartedly, though a few more of them would be nice. Also, we'll take the time to answer some of your questions.

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Norah: Thanks ever so for reviewing, and yes, it is rather strange that the mother is telling a story such as this to very young children, but than - this mother is rather strange. But don't worry, she isn't intending on scarring them for life.

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Jeporra: Glad you like it, but you say that 'romance' isn't the right category? Well, I beg to differ. Romance comes in many forms, not just fluff. You shall see many shades of romance, ranging from dark angst ridden material to heart warming imagery throughout this tale. As to when, where and between whom… well, that would be telling. *grins*

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Kristen of Mistailla: Well, isn't this an update? J

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???: Lovely, we've inspired your interest!

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Jessie: 'A good, original idea', you say? Well, we thought so. Thankyou for agreeing with us. Heh.

** Lea:** We are terribly happy that you like what we've been doing with this - please, tell us (particularly Kitty) what you think of this latest chapter. Yes, we know it's short.

**Edith:** Thankyou, thankyou, and thankyou. 


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